A Poetical Translation of the elegies of Tibullus and of the poems of Sulpicia. With The Original Text, and Notes Critical and Explanatory. In two volumes. By James Grainger |
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| 3. | THE THIRD ELEGY.
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 | A Poetical Translation of the elegies of Tibullus |  |
39
THE THIRD ELEGY.
[While you, Messala, plough th'Ægean Sea]
While you, Messala, plough th'Ægean Sea,
O sometimes kindly deign to think of me:
Me, hapless me, Phæacian Shores detain,
Unknown, unpitied, and oppress'd with Pain.
Yet spare me, Death, ah spare me and retire:
No weeping Mother's here to light my Pyre:
Here is no Sister, with a Sister's Woe,
Rich Syrian Odors on the Pile to throw:
But chief, my Soul's soft Partner is not here,
Her Locks to loose, and sorrow o'er my Bier.
O sometimes kindly deign to think of me:
Me, hapless me, Phæacian Shores detain,
Unknown, unpitied, and oppress'd with Pain.
Yet spare me, Death, ah spare me and retire:
No weeping Mother's here to light my Pyre:
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Rich Syrian Odors on the Pile to throw:
But chief, my Soul's soft Partner is not here,
Her Locks to loose, and sorrow o'er my Bier.
What tho' fair Delia my Return implor'd,
Each Fane frequented, and each God ador'd:
What tho' they bade me every Peril brave;
And Fortune thrice auspicious Omens gave;
All could not dry my tender Delia's Tears,
Suppress her Sighs, or calm her anxious Fears;
E'en as I strove to minister Relief,
Unconscious Tears proclaim'd my heart-felt Grief:
Urg'd still to go, a thousand Shifts I made,
Birds now, now Festivals my Voyage staid:
Or, if I struck my Foot against the Door,
Strait I return'd, and Wisdom was no more.
Forbid by Cupid, let no Swain depart,
Cupid is vengeful, and will wring his Heart.
Each Fane frequented, and each God ador'd:
What tho' they bade me every Peril brave;
And Fortune thrice auspicious Omens gave;
All could not dry my tender Delia's Tears,
Suppress her Sighs, or calm her anxious Fears;
E'en as I strove to minister Relief,
Unconscious Tears proclaim'd my heart-felt Grief:
43
Birds now, now Festivals my Voyage staid:
Or, if I struck my Foot against the Door,
Strait I return'd, and Wisdom was no more.
Forbid by Cupid, let no Swain depart,
Cupid is vengeful, and will wring his Heart.
What do your Offerings now, my Fair, avail?
Your Isis heeds not, and your Cymbals fail!
What, though array'd in sacred Robes you stood,
Fled Man's Embrace, and sought the purest Flood?
While this I write, I sensibly decay,—
“Assist me, Isis, drive my Pains away:
“That you can every mortall Ill remove,
“The numerous Tablets in your Temple prove:
“So shall my Delia, veil'd in votive White,
“Before your Threshold sit for many a Night;
“And twice a Day, her Tresses all unbound,
“Amid your Votaries fam'd, your Praises sound:
“Safe to my household Gods may I return,
“And Incense monthly on their Altars burn.”
Your Isis heeds not, and your Cymbals fail!
What, though array'd in sacred Robes you stood,
Fled Man's Embrace, and sought the purest Flood?
While this I write, I sensibly decay,—
“Assist me, Isis, drive my Pains away:
45
“The numerous Tablets in your Temple prove:
“So shall my Delia, veil'd in votive White,
“Before your Threshold sit for many a Night;
“And twice a Day, her Tresses all unbound,
“Amid your Votaries fam'd, your Praises sound:
“Safe to my household Gods may I return,
“And Incense monthly on their Altars burn.”
47
How blest Man liv'd in Saturn's golden Days,
E'er distant Climes were join'd by lengthned Ways.
Secure the Pine upon the Mountain grew,
Nor yet o'er Billows in the Ocean flew;
Then every Clime a wild Abundance bore,
And Man liv'd happy on his natal Shore:
For then no Steed to feel the Bit was broke,
Then had no Steer submitted to the Yoke;
No House had Gates, (blest Times!) and, in the Grounds
No scanty Landmarks parcell'd out the Bounds:
From every Oak redundant Honey ran,
And Ewes spontaneous bore their Milk to Man:
No deathful Arms were forg'd, no War was wag'd,
No Rapine plunder'd, no Ambition rag'd.
How chang'd, alas! Now cruel Jove commands;
Gold fires the Soul, and Falchions arm our Hands:
Each Day, the Main unnumber'd Lives destroys;
And Slaughter, daily, o'er her Myriads joys.
Yet spare me, Jove, I ne'er disown'd thy Sway,
I ne'er was perjur'd; spare me, Jove, I pray.
E'er distant Climes were join'd by lengthned Ways.
Secure the Pine upon the Mountain grew,
Nor yet o'er Billows in the Ocean flew;
Then every Clime a wild Abundance bore,
And Man liv'd happy on his natal Shore:
For then no Steed to feel the Bit was broke,
Then had no Steer submitted to the Yoke;
No House had Gates, (blest Times!) and, in the Grounds
No scanty Landmarks parcell'd out the Bounds:
From every Oak redundant Honey ran,
And Ewes spontaneous bore their Milk to Man:
No deathful Arms were forg'd, no War was wag'd,
No Rapine plunder'd, no Ambition rag'd.
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Gold fires the Soul, and Falchions arm our Hands:
Each Day, the Main unnumber'd Lives destroys;
And Slaughter, daily, o'er her Myriads joys.
Yet spare me, Jove, I ne'er disown'd thy Sway,
I ne'er was perjur'd; spare me, Jove, I pray.
But, if the Sisters have pronounc'd my Doom,
Inscrib'd be these upon my humble Tomb.
“Lo! here inurn'd a youthful Poet lies,
“Far from his Delia, and his native Skies!
“Far from the lov'd Messala, whom to please
“Tibullus follow'd over Land and Seas.”
Inscrib'd be these upon my humble Tomb.
“Lo! here inurn'd a youthful Poet lies,
“Far from his Delia, and his native Skies!
“Far from the lov'd Messala, whom to please
“Tibullus follow'd over Land and Seas.”
Then Love my Ghost (for Love I still obey'd)
Will grateful usher to th'Elysian Shade:
There Joy and ceaseless Revelry prevail;
There soothing Musick floats on every Gale;
There painted Warblers hop from Spray to Spray,
And, wildly-pleasing, swell the general Lay:
There every Hedge, untaught, with Cassia blooms,
And scents the ambient Air with rich Perfumes:
There every Mead a various Plenty yields;
There lavish Flora paints the purple Fields:
With ceaseless Light a brighter Phœbus glows,
No Sickness tortures, and no Ocean flows;
But Youths associate with the gentle Fair,
And stung with Pleasure to the Shade repair:
With them Love wanders wheresoe'er they stray,
Provokes to Rapture, and inflames the Play:
But chief, the constant Few, by Death betray'd,
Reign, crown'd with Myrtle, Monarchs of the Shade.
Will grateful usher to th'Elysian Shade:
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There soothing Musick floats on every Gale;
There painted Warblers hop from Spray to Spray,
And, wildly-pleasing, swell the general Lay:
There every Hedge, untaught, with Cassia blooms,
And scents the ambient Air with rich Perfumes:
There every Mead a various Plenty yields;
There lavish Flora paints the purple Fields:
With ceaseless Light a brighter Phœbus glows,
No Sickness tortures, and no Ocean flows;
But Youths associate with the gentle Fair,
And stung with Pleasure to the Shade repair:
With them Love wanders wheresoe'er they stray,
Provokes to Rapture, and inflames the Play:
But chief, the constant Few, by Death betray'd,
Reign, crown'd with Myrtle, Monarchs of the Shade.
Not so the Wicked; far they drag their Chains,
By black Lakes sever'd from the blissful Plains;
Those should they pass, impassable the Gate
Where Cerb'rus howls, grim Sentinel of Fate.
There snake-hair'd Fiends with Whips patrole around,
Rack'd Anguish bellows, and the Deeps resound:
There he, who dar'd to tempt the Queen of Heaven,
Upon an ever-turning Wheel is driven:
The Danaids there, still strive huge Casks to fill,
But strive in vain, the Casks elude their Skill:
There Pelop's Sire, to quench his thirsty Fires,
Still tries the Flood, and still the Flood retires:
There Vulturs tear the Bow'ls, and drink the Gore,
Of Tityus, stretch'd enormous on the Shore.
Dread Love, as vast as endless be their Pain
Who tempt my Fair, or wish a long Campaign.
By black Lakes sever'd from the blissful Plains;
53
Where Cerb'rus howls, grim Sentinel of Fate.
There snake-hair'd Fiends with Whips patrole around,
Rack'd Anguish bellows, and the Deeps resound:
There he, who dar'd to tempt the Queen of Heaven,
Upon an ever-turning Wheel is driven:
The Danaids there, still strive huge Casks to fill,
But strive in vain, the Casks elude their Skill:
There Pelop's Sire, to quench his thirsty Fires,
Still tries the Flood, and still the Flood retires:
There Vulturs tear the Bow'ls, and drink the Gore,
Of Tityus, stretch'd enormous on the Shore.
Dread Love, as vast as endless be their Pain
Who tempt my Fair, or wish a long Campaign.
55
O let no Rival your Affections share,
Long as this Bosom beats, my lovely Fair!
Still on you let your prudent Nurse attend;
She'll guard your Honour, she's our common Friend.
Her Tales of Love your Sorrowings will allay,
And, in my Absence, make my Delia gay:
Let her o'er all your Virgin-train preside,
She'll praise th'Industrious, and the Lazy chide.
But see! on all enfeebling Languors creep;
Their Distaffs drop, they yawn, they nod, they sleep.
Then, if the Destinies propitious prove,
Then will I rush, all Passion, on my Love:
My wish'd Return no Messenger shall tell,
I'll seem, my Fair, as if from Heaven I fell.
A soft Confusion flushes all your Charms,
Your graceful Dishabille my Bosom warms,
You, Delia, fly and clasp me in your Arms.
Long as this Bosom beats, my lovely Fair!
Still on you let your prudent Nurse attend;
She'll guard your Honour, she's our common Friend.
Her Tales of Love your Sorrowings will allay,
And, in my Absence, make my Delia gay:
Let her o'er all your Virgin-train preside,
She'll praise th'Industrious, and the Lazy chide.
But see! on all enfeebling Languors creep;
Their Distaffs drop, they yawn, they nod, they sleep.
Then, if the Destinies propitious prove,
Then will I rush, all Passion, on my Love:
My wish'd Return no Messenger shall tell,
I'll seem, my Fair, as if from Heaven I fell.
A soft Confusion flushes all your Charms,
Your graceful Dishabille my Bosom warms,
You, Delia, fly and clasp me in your Arms.
For this Surprize, ye Powers of Love, I pray,
Post on Aurora, bring the rosy Day.
Post on Aurora, bring the rosy Day.
| A Poetical Translation of the elegies of Tibullus | |